Road to Recovery
by mslupin21
Summary: Hermione needs help and who is better to help her than the Greasy Bat of the Dungeons? Warning: Abuse. A HGSS story.
1. With Baited Breath

A/N: Hi. So I'm attempting another fic : In this one, there's abuse so you've been forewarned. This takes place after the Trio has graduated and ignores most of HBP and DH. I really need a beta so if you're interested I would greatly appreciate it.

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She sat on the cold, rough concrete silently praying that it would stop. Her eyes glanced upward as if to question God Himself about the horrors of her life. Her eyes fell to her arms. They were scratched and bruised. Her wrist was wrapped in a haphazard fashion with the dirty bandage barely clinging onto her thin wrist. Her tongue swept over her swollen lip. It tasted of blood. A slam from a door inside made her noticeably flinch. _He­ _was home. She leapt up from the concrete and set off into a sprint, heading towards the dilapidated shed. The shed was her only refuge. She could hide for hours amongst the rakes, shovels and sinewy cobwebs. When she reached the door, she wrenched it open and quietly pulled it closed. She quickly went to the far left corner and hid by the old push mower. A whiff of old lawn clippings rushed to her senses. She brought her knees up to her chest and rocked back and forth as the man in the house started screaming her name. Tears streamed down her cheek. _Why was this happening?_ She shook with fear when she heard the back door open. _He_ had never ventured this close to her hiding place.

"Hermione! Dammit I know you're out her you witch!" The man was screaming in a drunken rage.

She began chewing at her lip nervously cowering, trying to hide herself in the old shed. A spider unaware of the scene taking place belayed from the ceiling from a silvery thread. The uneven footsteps grew louder as the man unsteadily approached. He continued yelling unintelligible remarks. She was trying hard to make her breathing silent. With months of practice, she was almost completely silent. A tug at the door made her jump. The one following renewed the stream of tears that flooded down her face. By the third tug, a tall, brutish man stood in the doorway reeking of alcohol. He clutched a bottle of whiskey in one hand fiercely as he screamed her name again. She winced unmoving. A sense of moira rushed through her veins. She refused to look up when he stood before her blaring. It wasn't long until she was forced into reality when he yanked her from her sanctuary as if she were a china doll. A popping sound and a rush of pain notified her that her arm was no longer in her socket. It had begun. There was no way out now.

The next morning Hermione woke up on the floor to her mother dabbing the new pains with a damp cloth whispering kind words. As she came to, thoughts of the previous night came flooding back to her. _Him_. Shed. Screaming. Beating. What else happened last night? She couldn't remember coming back inside the wretched house. Had _he_ brought her back in? Hermione looked at her mother with disgust. She had done nothing for the past several months except clean up the mess. And a mess she was. Hermione' eyes darted across her skin to see what happened this time. Large bruises were again forming. There was a gash by her calf. How would they explain it to the doctors this time, she wondered. She tried to right herself o get a better view, but a piercing pain shot through her body. Nearly doubling over in pain she threw herself into a coughing fit. Her mother's fine, delicate hand coolly touched her forehead as she continued her whispering. She tried to brush away her mother's hand, but she could hardly lift her own from the pain. Her mother noticed and a tear fell down on quivering lips.

"I'm so sorry." Her mother embraced an unwilling girl as softly as she could as to not cause more pain. She helped her daughter stand and she took her to the hospital for the fourth time that summer.

Unknown to Hermione or her mother, the Order of the Phoenix had been keeping tabs on their members, even unofficial members, throughout the year. It was at one such Order meeting that news of Hermione's predicament reached their ears.

"Hestia, I believe you have some news for us," asked Dumbledore in a soft voice; the usual sparkle in his eyes had vanished.

"I'm afraid I do," she said gravely. It was common knowledge in the Order that while Hestia had completed high profile jobs for the Order, like being a part of the Advance Guard, she usually helped with the mundane tasks. She planned schedules for watch, planted stories in the Daily Prophet, and worked with Madam Pomfrey to make sure that all of its members were in good health. With an intake of breath, she continued.

"Miss Granger has just been admitted to a muggle hospital for the fourth time this summer." There were some shocked expressions and some frantic whispers as to why that would ever happen. "She has maintained some more severe injuries this time than any prior time and I think it's about damn time we did something Albus!" It did not occur to the rest of the Order that Dumbledore would have been privy to this information long before had, nor that he had known how to emend the problem. The other members were merely shocked that Hestia, Hestia Jones, the kind timid witch from Hufflepuff would address Albus in such a way. They were abruptly snapped out of their musings when a drawling voice asked a question.

"How exactly did Miss Granger sustain such injuries?" Snape's voice left in its wake only silence. After a moment of consideration, Hestia answered.

"Well, it is the belief of myself and, umm, the muggle authorities that. You see we can't be entirely certain, but –"

"Get on with it woman!" Snape barked out. Hestia let out an "oh" of surprise.

"Itwasherstepfather," she mumbled.

"Care to repeat?" Snape questioned in a voice that would cause most first years to cry. Several Order members thought it was strange to see Snape seemingly care about a student much less, Hermione. Again Hestia let out a bit of a squeak before answering. Poor thing, she had never been a brave witch.

"It-was-her-step-father," clearly enunciating in a shaking tone. Snape let out a hiss before turning to Dumbledore.

"Making a habit, are we? Always choosing to ignore, when you could help?" Snape addressed Dumbledore more coldly than he had ever done. Dumbledore let out a sigh and his age began to show. He looked onto Snape with pitying, sad eyes.

"We've been through this before Severus. I could not, no matter what you still believe, help before. Now however, the tide has changed and years gone by. Perhaps you'd be interested in helping Miss Granger?" The old man looked tired. This reply baffled the Order. Severus Snape, the overgrown bat of the dungeons _help_ Hermione Granger? What could he possibly do to help the poor girl recover than scare her to death? Surely Mrs. Weasley would be a more appropriate choice? But these thoughts were silenced by the look Dumbledore gave each of them. They would not question this.

"What do you want me to do?"


	2. Hospitals and Memories

A/N: I wasn't planning on updating today, but I heard kind things : So much thanks for those of you who reviewed.

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The walls of the hospital were a barren, sickly green color. The sterility of the room gave the muggle hospital an eerie feel. There was only one window in the far corner of the room and the dank drapes that covered it blocked what little light might have shown through. There were three beds in a line along the wall, each with an eggshell white privacy curtain and a stiff backed chair that sat across from the foot of each bed. However, only one of the three beds was occupied.

Hermione's labored breathing nearly echoed in the small room. Her mother sat rocking herself back and forth trying to search for the words she so desperately needed to say. Nervously chewing on her tongue, she began.

"He-He promised to stop." Her mother broke off. Hermione glared at her mother. Rage quelled up inside her, but her face, except her glowering eyes, remained impassive. "He's a really sweet guy and he has helped me so much after John," She paused after the look on Hermione's face and continued, "—Your father's passing. I do love him, Hermione."

Hermione looked at her mother with disgust. How dare she love _him_. How dare she love

that _thing_ that beat her to the point where the nurses at St. Vrain's knew her on a first bloody name basis. Her eyes glanced up to the x-ray hanging on the wall. Last time it was her wrist, this time he fractured ribs. What next? Her neck? And her own mother loves that _man_. She could not dwell on those thoughts much longer, because Nurse O'Doherty bustled in with a clipboard in tow. She smiled at Hermione warmly, but mournfully. She completely ignored the mother of whom she would never sympathize with. O'Doherty could never understand what kind of woman let those so-called "accidents" continue.

"Hello, Hermione." She said in a dulcet tone. "I've got the results of the lab and everything checks out fine. That rib should heal in one to two months. Dr. Moore wrote up a prescription for some pain medication. Your breathing will be painful, but these should alleviate some of the sting. A roller skating accident, Hermione?" She tried again to dig up the truth, but Hermione just glared at her mother.

"Yes, a roller skating accident. Isn't that right Mother?" Hermione responded acerbically. Her mother merely nodded as if she had other pressing issues and she just wanted to leave.

"Alright, Hermione," the nurse sighed. "A social worker has been notified since this is the fourth time in the past two months. I hope you understand. He will be in shortly to speak with you both…individually."

"Excuse me?" Hermione's mother addressed Nurse O'Doherty for the first time in a waspish tone. "Are you saying that you think something else happened to my baby?"

"I think you'll find that I am not insinuating that anything out of the ordinary happened to your _baby_, but perhaps you'll agree that your sudden outburst seems a little odd. The social worker will be in shortly and I hope you have some _real _answers."

At that the nurse left, and a middle-aged man strode into the room surveying the room stiffly. He stood at about 5'6" and looked peculiar with his small beady eyes and thinning, grey hair.

"Mrs. and Miss Granger, I presume?" He asked in a squeaky voice entirely unsuitable for a man of his age. With their nods of assent he continued. "If I could have a moment to speak to… let's have Mrs. Granger first. Out in the hall my dear." Mrs. Granger stood slowly and reluctantly left the room leaving Hermione alone in the room.

Hermione sat upon the stiff bed caught in her own musings. What would that pathetic excuse of a man be able to do for her? At this she paused. When had she become so caustic; she didn't used to think such things. Where was the girl who called for House-Elf liberation? Who was she becoming? She thought back to the previous night. _He_ had found her hiding place. Where would she go now? Thoughts unbidden of despondency and isolation inundated her senses. She was alone. A tear slipped down her cheek and she shook her head angrily. She would not give _him_ the satisfaction of making her cry.

Snape sat in his quarters staring at a fire a House Elf undoubtedly lit. His hand clutched a fire whiskey and he was lost staring at the flicks of shadow in the light. He was to pick up Miss Granger at her place of living prompt at nine o'clock. Dumbledore's plan seemed reasonable, but he couldn't get past the thought if someone had been sent to pick him at his house all those years ago. As a piece of wood crumbled in the fireplace, Snape recalled one night he would never forget.

Flash back

Snape stood at the window staring out at the snow falling delicately. Entranced by each flake twirling down contrasting the dark night by its brilliant bright color. His mother was inside the kitchen cooking something that smelled of cinnamon and nutmeg and something he couldn't put his finger on. He ran merrily past the beautifully decorated and well lit Christmas tree to find the source of that delectable smell. His mother greeted him with a warm smile and grabbed a pair of oven mitts from a pantry. She glided towards the oven with an unparalleled grace. She reached inside the oven and pulled out his favourite: apple pie.

A smile broke out on Severus' face as he looked at his mother with a questioning gaze. His mother had told him he would be able to have a slice after dinner. In his boyish anticipation of a delectable home cooked meal, He eagerly helped his mother prepare the rest of the food: the roasted duck and steamed vegetables, the French bread his mother labored to make and that perfect apple pie. Despite all the preparation, dinner never came that night.

The table had been set for two. The napkins folded to resemble elegant swans were left untouched. The food lay out on the table. The roasted duck rested cut on the plates with the vegetables growing cold. The French bread remained uneaten in a basket covered with a white napkin so they would stay warm. The utensils left in their places unmoved. Except for one. The knife that had been placed next to Severus' apple pie had been moved.

Tobias had come home that night after an unannounced two-week binge. He was drunk and reeked of the vile stench of alcohol. When he swaggered in, he saw his wife and twelve year old son in the kitchen, his eyes flicked towards the table. Rage swelled inside him when he saw two, not three places made. Stomping up to the table he grabbed the knife and walked towards a frightened wife. Severus, who anticipated his father's actions bravely stalked up to his father, but with one swing the boy lay crumpled on the floor. Watching in horror at the events that began to unfold. His mother began to run towards him, and in hardly a moments time lay bleeding on the floor. Tobias Snape left as quickly as he came and Severus was left to frantically try to find help. None came.

End of flash back

A clock gave a half-past chime and shook him from his thoughts. 8:30. He threw his beverage into the fire which awoke the drowsy flame and strode over to his potions cabinet withdrawing a sobering vial. He drained its contents and looked at the clock. Only minute had passed. Sick of waiting, he grabbed an outer cloak and after a moment he went to the same cabinet and grabbed some basic healing potions. The ominous silhouette of Professor Snape advancing towards the Hogwart's gates could be seen by the Headmaster's office window where Dumbledore watched Snape reach the outer gates and Apparate. Dumbledore let out a sigh. _I hope I've done the right thing_.

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A/N: Read and review, eh? 


	3. The Beginning of a Long Night

A/N: Hellos. So here's another update for you. I'm on Thanksgiving break so the updates should be fairly consistent, but school starts again next week. So they'll slow down. Erm bit of confusion about Dumbledore's words in the last chappie. I intended it to sound more like him not being sure if sending Snape was the right thing... not leaving Hermionein that position, but that review gave me an idea that I used in this chapter, so it's all good :D

Much love

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The grandfather clock in the corner of the living room chimed once. Hermione's eyes drifted over to it lazily. It was a quarter past eight. Reaching out for the remote on the small end table near the checkered couch, she began flipping channels on the television. She scoffed when she saw a commercial featuring a family all smiling at each other sitting down to eat. Like that was real. After finding nothing, she hit the red power button and began to stretch. Shooting pain coursed through her body. _Bad idea_. She blinked rapidly and clenched her jaw willing the pain to stop. The quiet throbbing still ached when her mother walked into the room several minutes later. Her mother sat in the armchair directly opposing her daughter.

"Your father--" She began.

"_He_ is not my father;" Hermione interrupted scathingly. The glare in her eyes warned her mother.

"Alright," her mother paused, "Your step-father will be coming back tonight. I mentioned that we each had to speak to the social worker, so he might have just a few questions."

Hermione visibly paled. She could only imagine what a heart to heart with _him_ would be like. Panic started to grip her as she recalled what the social worker had said to her in his squeaky voice: "This will never stop if you don't tell anyone what is going on. We can only go off suspicions and that will be of no use to us. Still not going to say anything? Hmph. Well I see you've just wasted my time." But she couldn't say anything. Her heart began to race as she thought of the ways _he_ would remind her not to say anything. She looked at her mother n fear. She wasn't, She couldn't just let _him_.

"Hermione are you feeling alright sweetie? You look a little pale. Maybe I'll hop over to the kitchen and grab you a spot of tea. Is everything alright?" Her mother asked in a kind tone that washed right over Hermione.

Hermione made a slight nod incredulously. Her mother had the nerve to ask if everything was alright? No mother _dearest_ nothing is alright. You remarried to a man who beats me, or don't you remember? Hermione shook her head. She wouldn't let _him_ win. She would remain positive. There wasn't much time until she could leave. That thought made her stop. Where would she go? She graduated Hogwarts last year; she had no refuge to run to. She had that row with Ron after she ended-- well it couldn't possibly be labeled a relationship in her mind, because Ron was too immature for one of those. Not that it mattered. She was sure despite whatever happened between her and Ron; she would always be welcome at the Burrow. She knew nine redheads would all try to help her in whatever way they could. She'd have to answer questions and while she had always been great at raising her hand at school, Hermione knew she was never one to freely answer questions that were more personal. She hadn't even told her best friends about her dad's passing. No. The Burrow didn't seem like an option. Her musings were halted when her mother walked back into the living room.

"I brought you some tea." Hermione took the tea and winced when she found she had moved wrong. Her eyes gazed into the honey-colored beverage that was swirling aimlessly in the china cup. She rubbed her thumb across the rim as a nervous habit. Slowly she brought the cup to her lips and took a sip. Chamomile. She was calmed back to a time when her mother used to make her the tea whenever she was anxious about schoolwork or what she was going to do once break was over. The steaming beverage was usually accompanied by her mother rubbing her back and just lending an ear. She looked at her mother who was sitting across from her. Her mother's fine hands were laced around the delicate cup. Her curls were tied back in a delicate bun with one stray curl framing her face. She looked like the same woman; her eyes were more lined than when Hermione was younger and she looked tired. Hermione chewed on her lip, before opening her mouth to speak.

"Mom--" But before she could finish the front door was wrenched open and a livid man stood in the doorway.

Hermione flinched so hard, so teacup slipped from her grasp and shattered on the wood floor. Her eyes did not chance a glance at the damage she had caused but were locked on _him_. If it were possible, _he_ looked even angrier now as he took several ominous steps towards the cowering mass on the couch. Her mother moved quickly, mumbling something about needing to finish dishes and Hermione finally looked away from _him_ to watch the retreating figure. She left out a strangled noise watching her only hope fleeing before looking back._He_ was advancing slowly. Hermione decided _he_ must have drunk more than usual and in a fit of Gryffindor bravery or perhaps mere stupidity she leapt away from the couch trying to get away from the mass gradually getting closer. Her legs sore from the previous night gave out and she landed on the hard floor. Tears fell bitterly. She couldn't even try to get away this time.

"Stupid, insolent little shit," the drunken man slurred. He swaggered over to the girl and with one large hand, ripped Hermione from the floor. Her arm twisted and there was a load crack. She tried piteously to get away from _him_, which only angered him more. In a fit of rage, he tossed her like a rag doll into the wall. Her head snapped back and she lost consciousness.

She awoke soon after to gut wrenching pain. It took a moment to regain her bearings and by the next blow, she knew exactly where she was. Hell. With a sputtering couch, she noted the red complemented the cherry floors. The flecks of her own blood on the floor entranced her. _When will this end?_ As if her prayers had been answered, there was a loud crack and a swish of a cloak. Though she did not know it, the end had arrived.

Severus took no time in blasting open the door. He had no time for social niceties and was set on retrieving the girl and leaving. However not even he expected the scene that lay before him. In a far corner of room, a huddled mass of unruly curls lay broken at a man's feet, blood pooling on the otherwise clean floor. He was a brute of a man and reeked of alcohol. He sneered at the girl, retracted his foot, and poised it, ready to inflict more pain. In his madness, he had not noticed that he had a visitor. Snape withdrew his wand with dexterity and pointed it at that _thing_.

"You will stop, if you wish to live." Snape said in chilling tone. The oafish man halted and turned to the man dressed in black.

"Are you threatening me?" The man replied witlessly.

"Why yes, sir. I do believe I am." In attempt to goad the stranger, the oaf carelessly stepped back, crushing Hermione's hand. And in a violent flash of spells, the man lay unmoving. A woman came into the living room screaming, crying over the _thing_.

Severus sidestepped the woman and kneeled down to Hermione. Tears of relief were streaming down her face.

"Shhhh. It's alright." He cooed misinterpreting her tears. With that, he withdrew a small vial and uncorked it, pressing it to her lips. "Drink this. It will help." She drank unquestioningly and promptly fell from consciousness.

Severus scooped the fragile broken body in his arms, ignoring protests from the pathetic woman who was trying to revive the man who hurt her daughter. He took careful strides towards the door in hopes that he wouldn't jostle the bundle in his arms. Once he reached the doorstep, he paused. The warm night breeze flicked his hair into his eyes. He flicked his head slightly, moving the offending strand from his line of sight. He knew he couldn't chance apparating her in the condition she was in as it would undoubtedly cause more harm. Dumbledore expressly told him she was not to go to St. Mungo's. The remaining Death Eaters might see her injuries as an opening for attack. He could not understand that man sometimes. How many times had he prolonged suffering for the "greater good?" He let out an exasperated sigh, his eyes darting back to the house. Floo was out of the question as her house wasn't a part of the network. He stood resolutely seeing his only option. He moved Hermione only slightly in his arms, but the pain that caused was apparent in her features. He pulled out his wand carefully and raised it.

With a snapping noise a large, purple, triple-decker bus arrived at the Granger residence. Snape stepped out of the shadow of the porch and walked towards the Knight Bus.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this eve--"Stan stopped abruptly and looked in horror at his old professor.

"Prof- Professor?" Stan stood bewildered looking back and forth between his old Potions Master and the injured girl in his arms. The state of the girl made him queasy and he contemplated what his old professor had to do with the state she was in. His musings were cut short when Snape spoke.

"I do not have time for this Mr. Shunpike. I need you to take us to Spinners End, London. Or are you as incompetent as a conductor as you were a potions student." Snape sneered with less bite than normal. He wanted to scare Stan into no asking any questions. He didn't feel any particular animosity towards the boy, but he couldn't face the questions. After he saw the paled look on his previous student's face, he knew he succeeded. He stepped onto the bus and placed Hermione on one of the four-poster beds. A curl fell across her face and he reached out and tucked it behind her ear.

It was going to be a long night.

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Hoped you liked. Review please :D 


	4. And so It Begins

A/N: Erm. I'm really bad at updating. Sorry? Anyway, here's the next chapter. I really did mean to update this sooner… feels bad

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As the Knight Bus jerked and dodged through the streets, leaving only a blur of motion behind, Severus sat astutely seemly unaffected by the jostling ride. He sat in an old wooden chair; the fading whitewash hinting that at one time the chair had been hardwood. His body sat rigidly and his eyes gazed unfocusedly at the sleeping mass before him.

Hermione reposed on the brass bedstead. Her brow was no longer furrowed as it had been when she was at the house, nor was evident fear etched on her every feature. She looked serene. The only movements she made were the constant rising and falling of her chest. A single strand of unruly hair draped across her brow. Her calm state was a stark in contrast to the dried blood and darkening bruises which marred her visage. As Severus stared on he noticed that her left arm was bent at an odd angle. He stealthily reached across her to try and right it, but was met with a small "eep" of pain. Hermione's eyes fluttered for a moment, but remained closed.

"Shite." Severus quietly swore to himself. He adroitly pulled his wand from his robes and clearly articulated, "Ferula." At that a bandage and splint began to harness itself on her injured arm. After another cursory glance at Hermione, he began cataloging the potions that she would need. She looked far too pale so a blood-replenishing potion wouldn't be out of place. He would obviously need a bruise-healing slave. Depending on her state when she awoke a Calming Draught might be necessary. His right foot began to tap the floor of the Knight Bus as he tried to brainstorm. He wondered briefly is he had any Murtlap Essence on hand. A wound-cleaning potion seemed obligatory. He bit his lower lip and decided that those potions would work to satisfaction. After a less-than-passing glance at Hermione, Severus began to step out of his clinical approach and just allow himself to wonder what had happened to that bright, "insufferable know it all" he had known…

He was brought abruptly out of his musings when the Knight Bus came to a screeching halt and the rickety, whitewashed chair toppled over. After sending a positively crippling glare at both Ernie and Stan, he got up stiffly and strode to the front of the bus and tossed 11 sickles in the collection tub.

"Er… thank ye. Professor" Stan barely mumbled.

Severus turned on his heel and strode back to get Hermione. He stopped at the bed wondering briefly if he should wake her. He shook his head minutely, and stooped down to the bed and scooped her up in his arms. He tried to keep his long strides steady as not to jostle her, but the various plush couches seemed quite against that. As he neared the front of the Knight Bus he could make out a muffled conversation.

"…But Ern, what 'choo think 'e means by it? I mean, it's not ev'ry day a man like that comes in 'ere with their comp'ny in tha stae 'n all…"

"Mister Shunpike," Severus drawled; "I would _heartily_ advise you to keep whatever foolish ideas you have to yourself."

With wide eyes, Stan merely nodded furiously, unable to string together a coherent response. Severus sighed as he maneuvered his bundle in such a way so he was able to leave that wretched bus. Once again he looked down at Hermione. Deep concern flooded his thoughts as he thought of the difficult night ahead.

When he brought Hermione across the hearth, he immediately remembered why he never stayed at Spinner's End. Whenever he entered the house, it felt as if he was trapped in a dark, padded cell. He advanced past the tiny sitting room, past endless rows of bookshelves, past the kitchenette and storeroom, until he came to a door at the end of the hallway. He fumbled trying to open the door, but eventually got it. The room was like much of the rest of the house. It was small, dark, gloomy, and overtly unattended. There was bed in the middle of the room and a nightstand sporting a broken clock and some antiquated, dusty books. Walking towards the bed, he deftly laid Hermione down. He stood a moment obviously lost in thought before walking to the storeroom and grabbing several bottles.

When he arrived back, Hermione had made no sign of moving. He quickly conjured a chair and sat near the bed silently cursing Dumbledore as "that Old Fool." Deciding that the wound cleaning and the bruise-healing salve should be applied first, he got to work. Thirty minutes had past until he had applied the salves on her face, neck and arms. He stared that her robes knowing that that vile thing had kicked her and she must have sustained injuries to ribs and possibly organs, but feeling altogether helpless to heal those wounds. He stood debating for a long couple of minutes, finally deciding that it was his responsibility to aid her… no matter how uneasy it made him. He tried fumbling with a button and finally resolved to cut the robes as it would be faster and more easily done. However, after his quick "Diffindo" was cast, a startled young woman awoke.

Hermione blinked several times. Her eyes darted around her surroundings. Nothing was familiar. She looked down at herself and realized that her robes had been cut open, leaving her exposed save for a small white tank top and shorts. She felt her heart rate quicken as she began to panic. Her eyes searched around once again, this time falling on a man dressed exclusively in black. Without another thought, she screamed and desperately tried to get away, her arms and legs flailing in every direction. She flung herself frantically off the bed and landed on something soft emitted an odd "Umph" noise. Looking at what she had landed on, she realized it was that same man and frenetically scratched around her trying to get off of him and get away. Something she knew would be nigh impossible judging by the throbbing pain that threatened to engulf her. But she had to get away. Who is that?! Is it one of _his_ friends? What is he going to do to me?!

Amidst all of the kicking and scratching, Severus finally got his bearings and firmly grabbed the young woman's wrists to prevent her from hurting herself further. This only frightened her more and she fought against his hold.

"Miss Granger!" Snape insisted, "Calm down! I'm not going to hurt you. Shhhhh." He repeated the last calming noise several times.

Hermione was still panicked, but to a lesser extent. He knew her. She was positive she knew that voice, but she couldn't recall from where. And Miss Granger? No one had called her that since…. That revelation caught her by surprise and she stopped fighting all together.

"Much better Miss Granger," Severus whispered. "Come on. Let's get you back in bed." Severus once again stooped down to pick Hermione up. Instinctively, she resisted this motion and promptly fell out of his arms onto the hard floor.

"Who are you?" Hermione asked pitifully. Everything hurt. She was in a strange house and some guy she didn't know was trying to put her in that bed and everything was wrong. Tears slipped down her cheeks.

Severus was momentarily dumbfounded. She didn't recognize _him_? He taught her for years and yet? Worry entered into the equation as a particularly troublesome thought entered into his mind: What if she didn't remember anything?? He stared at the young woman and answered.

"Surely Miss Granger after teaching you Potions for five years and the Defense Against the Dark Arts you have some recollection of your professor."

Relief flooded Hermione upon hearing those words. She did not answer right away, instead crying more—this time for joy. She had been saved. She wasn't at that wretched house anymore. She was safe.

Mistaking the cause of the tears, Severus began to feel unnerved. He tried another tactic.

"Hermione?" The words felt foreign on his lips. " It's Professor Snape. Do you know what happened to you?" The concern in his voice was nearly tangible.

"Yeah. Yeah. I remember." How could she ever forget what that _thing_ had done? She let out a small sigh and positioned her back against the side of the bed. Her mind was racing at the memory of it all and she didn't elaborate. Severus sat next to her not knowing what else to do.

"I was working on healing some of your injuries. The bruises and abrasions are all but gone. He broke your left arm and I'm not nearly as adept as Madam Pomfrey at mending bones, hence the splint. When you awoke, I was about to check for damage to organs or ribs. I did not mean to alarm you. However, I think it is imperative that you go back into the bed as the floor isn't exactly a suitable place to recover," Snape explained.

Hermione said nothing, but did not protest when her old professor picked her up and set her on the bed. She felt positively numb.

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A/N: So, hope you liked it. I wrote out an outline of where this is going so I don't stop the story as long as I did again. All the spells and potions were ones mentioned in the book, which I then found on wikipedia and HP Lexicon. Anywho, if you feel so inclined, there's a neat little button down there where you can review


	5. A Perfect Cup of Tea

A/N: Yup back in the swing of things. Anywho, this is my longest chapter to date… I think. It's the longest in this fic anyway. So hope you guys enjoy.

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Hermione was alone in the house. She surveyed the room around her. Heavy dust made the place look unused. The cobwebs reminded her of her shed. She began walking to the door. Her arm stretched out far in front of her as she reached for the gilded door handle. After a moment's hesitation, Hermione opened the door with a tug. An eerie light filled the hall in front of her. A pitter-patter of foot falls scratched at the floor as a mouse ran across the corridor into another room. Looking for some sign of someone else, she kept moving forward until she reached a small living room. It was there that her heart stopped. On the two dilapidated sitting chairs sat Professor Snape and _him_. With one spine-chilling move, _he _turned to face her with a sinister grin on _his _face. _He _began to rise, cooing her name.

Hermione turned to run, but it was as if her legs no longer wished to support her and she fell crashing down on the hard floor. She looked up from the ground back at him and despairingly trying to crawl away from the brutish _thing_. No matter how frantically she struggled, he kept getting closer and closer. She threw a pleading look at her old professor who merely observed the scene with vague curiosity.

"Help," she cried piteously. His lips curled into a calculating smirk and then he replied.

"I was not aware Miss Granger that you found me to be a particularly helpful person. Such a pity your mistake really."

She visibly paled as Professor Snape made his was to the front door and snapped it closed behind him with a resounding 'click.' Her eyes met _his_ again. In one swift movement, a large hand grasped her by the neck and slammed her small frame against the wall. Hermione struggled, but to no avail. Her small fingers fought to pry his fingers off. Nothing seemed to work. Everything started fading. Darkness set in. Hermione tried to scream, but no sound got through.

Snape was pacing in his small sitting room. A clock chimed once. It had been four hours since he had gotten Hermione. Tired, he sat on a moth eaten armchair gazing at the clock trying to figure out what had happened before. She seemed all right at first, but then she became so… he couldn't think of the right word… detached maybe? _Was it shock? Surely after experiencing those kind of horrors someone might go into shock right?_ He thought briefly back into his past and immediately shook his head. _Don't. Not again_. He began employing Occlumency techniques to block out those painful memories. Compartmentalize his mind in a way. Antsy, he began to pace again.

That's when he heard it. Piercing screams coming from his bedroom. He raced faster than he knew how towards the sound. His heart was pounding. _What happened?! Is she all right?! Did I miss something?! For Merlin's sake let her be okay!_ When he entered the room, he saw Hermione thrashing around in the bed screaming. He ran to her trying to shake her awake.

"Miss Granger!" he called to her loudly, "Miss Granger! It's just a dream. WAKE UP!" Her eyes fluttered open, but she didn't stop yelling.

"Gettoff me!" she screamed out and then continued in a frightened voice. "Don't hurt me." His heart broke at those words and he stared down at her, moving to sit at the edge of his bed.

"Miss Granger," he said in a calming voice. "It was just a bad dream. It's over now. No one is going to harm you. You're safe."

She sat up in the bed and edged herself over to him. Then without wavering, she buried her head in his robes and quietly sobbed. Severus was caught completely unawares and immediately stiffened and looked at the crying woman as if she was one of Hagrid's newest creatures. However, with her head burrowed in his chest she did not see him falter as he uneasily snaked his arm around her and gave her three awkward pats on the back. Severus, not really knowing how to comfort someone—generally he was the one who put people in this state instead of getting them out of it—he kept quiet. As the minutes passed, he couldn't help but feel strangely comforted that she scared as she was, she clung to him to keep her safe. With an inward sigh, Severus couldn't help but think; _Hmmm. I could stay here all day with her._ As the implication of those thoughts set in he felt entirely uncomfortable. _ I certainly cannot be thinking any higher of the Know-It-All. Really I'm just helping her now and in the morning she'll be back with the Weasleys. _He felt a little tug at his heart thinking that she would almost certainly be leaving so soon. Her wounds, though as painful as he imagined they must be, were no longer threatening. _No Severus, she'll be leaving soon and all the better for _you. Only as her tears subsided did he finally speak.

"Erm… Miss Granger, as much as I enjoy being your human kerchief, perhaps some tea would serve you better."

Hermione's cheeks blushed from embarrassment. Though his comment was snide, she knew that it wasn't malicious. _ I can't believe I did that. He must think I can't keep a hold of myself at all._ A different part of her brain felt compelled to add; _well it's not like you've held it together so far._ She let out a little sign and looked up at her former professor and realized he was waiting for her reply. Feeling embarrassed for the second time in that short interval, she merely nodded her assent.

Severus walked close to her during their trek to the kitchen just in case she lost her footing. She looked pale still. The coloring of the bruises seemed slightly lighter. As Hermione made to turn the wrong direction for the kitchen, Severus gently laid his hand on her back and guided her to the kitchen.

The kitchen had a single window above the sink. Moonlight entered the room in slits from the dusty blinds. A small table was located in the corner of the room. Two wooden chairs were edged up to it. He led her to one of the chairs and reached for a teakettle in a cabinet mounted to the wall. He walked nearly silently to the sink and filled the kettle with water as Hermione followed him with her inquisitive eyes. He put the kettle on the stove and turned to face her. Before he could open his mouth to speak, Hermione was ready with a question.

"Why do you make it the muggle way?" She asked, genuinely curious. Severus' eyes danced with amusement that even after everything that happened, she still wanted to know...well…everything.

"If you must know…and who am I kidding, of course you must know," Severus began and Hermione smiled demurely. "I prepare it this way, Miss Granger, simply because it's how my mother did."

"Wait. It has nothing to do with the fact that the muggle way takes longer to steep and therefore the water is infused with more of the taste of the tea? Or… I don't know. Well something more complicated than that?" Her brow was furrowed clearly expecting a different answer.

"No. Just how my mother made it," Severus smirked as he put a mesh infuser into the teapot. "Unfortunately it makes for a bit more of a wait." Hermione smile. She really did feel much safer now. That wretched dream was over and now she was sitting in her professor's kitchen waiting for the perfect cup of tea.

"Milk or lemon?" he asked disrupting her musings.

"Milk and honey if you have it," Hermione requested. Severus gave a curt nod. He poured her and himself a cup of tea, prepared to their likings.

"So. Miss. Granger, would you like to talk about what happened?" Severus asked in a way that gave the allusion of giving her an option, but in reality required an answer. She absent-mindedly bit her lip as she tried to think of what to say. Nothing sounded right.

"Well… I think it's kind of obvious. I mean—" she hadn't meant to sound so abrupt and quickly corrected herself. "I didn't mean that. It's just that—It's been going on for a while I guess and I don't know."

"Who is he and what exactly has been going on for a while?" he asked calmly after taking a sip of his tea.

"He's my…erm… step-father. My dad past away a little over a year ago. Heart problem," Hermione's voice cracked at the end of that sentence, but she continued. "Umm… My mother remarried shortly after. You see both she and my dad were dentists and they had their own practice. After Dad died, the business was in trouble. They barely scraped by before and then this guy pops up out of nowhere and he promises to help my mom and he just showers her in gift and… Well they got married.

"He was all right at first, I guess. I never really took to him though. Most of the time it wasn't a big deal because of school, but when I graduated I had to stay home more."

"Why didn't you live in the wizarding world after graduation? Surely even if money was a problem, there were many who would have taken you in, the Weasley's perhaps?" Snape interjected.

"No. I mean. Ron and I had that row and I really couldn't. I mean I didn't see how I could go back to the Burrow. I knew I'd be welcome, but I didn't want to answer any of their questions. Harry and Ron don't even know about Dad." She sighed. "So I couldn't stay there and I ended up staying at the house. Before I knew it, _he_ had made it impossible to leave. One day after returning from running errands with my mom, I popped into the shower because it was quite warm out and I left my wand out on the table. When I got out of the shower, everything was gone: all of my books, and notes, and everything, even my wand. I went downstairs, panicked and there he was sitting in the living room with a big smirk on his face. 'Not so special with everything gone are you? Nothing but a freak.' He snapped my wand in front of me.

"It began shortly after that. The beatings and all," she looked up at her former professor and was shocked at the mixture of emotions she found there. She had expected him to say something about being foolish to leave her wand out, but instead she just saw compassion and sympathy.

"I am so sorry." Severus' eyes gazed directly into hers, but there wasn't the usual cloud that suggested Occlumency. No his eyes were filled with emotion. And once again that night, Hermione felt safe with him. "Come on. Let's finish up the tea. Big day tomorrow."

"What happens tomorrow?" Hermione asked confused.

"Miss Granger, you've been attacked multiple times by a brute of a man. Do you really think the Order is just going to sit by? We'll have to attend the meeting tomorrow afternoon." Severus responded.

"Oh."

"Come on. Up you get. It's late and Madam Pomfrey would have my head if she knew you were up." Severus joked as he helped her out of her chair.

_He's being so _kind she couldn't help but think. He unquestionably didn't seem like the Bat of the Dungeons anymore. _In fact, he's been nothing but kind_. Her eyes drifted to the man walking next to her and she was lost in her musings. As they walked back to the room Hermione's ankle gave out and she stumbled. She saw the ground getting altogether too close for comfort and snapped her eyes shut waiting for the inevitable impact. But it never came. Instead she felt a weird tug at her mid section. _What?_ She opened her eyes only to see her professor looking worriedly at her with his arms about her waist. She couldn't help but giggle at his face. It was a mix of pride, _probably for catching me_, shock, _quite possibly he wasn't expecting me to fall flat on my face_, guilt, _but that doesn't make sense. Unless… Ha. he's embarrassed for how he caught me. _She shot him a quick smile before expressing her thanks.

"Thank you Professor. That could have been a little less-than-fun."

"Yes." He still looked embarrassed. "Well, let's try that again shall we. Bed, Miss Granger. No more detours to examine the grain and color of the floor." He led her to the bed and watched as she got settled.

"The potion in the blue vial is a Dreamless Sleep Potion is you need it. The potion in the yellow is one that will help the pain if it keeps you up." Severus paused before adding, "Good night, Miss Granger."

"Good night, Sir. Thank you for everything." She smiled at him, but soon a questioning expression was plastered on her face and Severus knew he would be answering some question. "Is there another bedroom, Sir? I mean it's not a very large house and I didn't see another room. Where are you sleeping?" Severus looked greatly discomfited at the question and replied as quickly as possible.

"There is not and I'll be in the sitting room. Good night, Miss Granger."

Hermione watched him leave the room and walk down the hall. She felt guilty for obviously stealing his bed, but couldn't help but appreciate that he didn't seem to mind. _He's a good man. _And with that thought she slowly drifted off to sleep.

As Severus retreated from the room, he was still embarrassed by her questions. _I simply do not see the purpose of that line of questioning. I clearly wanted her to sleep where she was or I wouldn't have led her there. And why was she so concerned where I was sleeping anyway??_ He fell ungracefully into the old armchair. _It is kind of nice that she cared though…_

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A/N: So there you have it. Hope you liked it. Please review as it always makes me happy to see 'em. I'll even give you metaphorical chocolate chip cookies :D


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